


Never lonely

by Insecuriosity



Series: Swerve loneliness series [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Coping, Drunkenness, Friendship, Loneliness, Marooned, Other, Overcharging (drunk robot), Personification, lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2729054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/pseuds/Insecuriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swerve managed to fall off the transport back to the Lost Light, and he stands all alone on a tiny planet. Of course they'll come back for him! He has lots of friends after all... </p><p>A story about loneliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never lonely

“Yo, Rodimus- you there?” Swerve could barely keep his voice from wavering and he clutched the molten stump that had been his arm just a few joors earlier. 

“I could really use a pickup right about now.” There was no answer from the other side of the line, and Swerve reset his comm-link. “I, uh... I fell off the transport when we were fleeing that bar, and I got my arm caught in the thruster. I think I passed out for.... yea, a good few joors.” 

He tried not to look at the stump. It reminded him of the time Whirl had gotten his helm caught in a heatblast and all sorts of stuff had started pouring out of the hole in his helm. Swerve was pretty sure that he wasn't leaking, but he decided not to look in case the sight of it was going to put him in temporary shutdown.

“Soo, I hope you can hurry up, I think my receiver is broken, I can't hear you guys. Lemme just-” He turned up the volume, but there wasn't even the slightest hint of static. “Nope, still not hearing you. Anyway, I have enough rations to last a good few decacycles. I'll transmit my co-ordinates so you guys can pick me up.” 

He transmitted the co-ordinates. “I hope you guys hurry up though, the atmosphere on this planet is real uncomfortable.” 

No answer. Well, that's what you get for falling helm-first off a speeding spacecraft and slamming into a tiny asteroid-turned-planet. Swerve clutched his molten stump and staggered to his feet. The atmosphere on the dustball was nothing more than a magnifying glass for the nearby suns, and it was becoming a little too hot for comfort. 

Swerve opened his comm again. “Hey, it's me again. I'm actually going to move away from the co-ordinates I sent you guys. This planet is one step away from a boiling magma-ball and my plating is not handling this heat very well.” 

Again no answer, and Swerve tried to dial up the volume on his commlink receiver. “This slagging thing- Rodimus can you say something again?....... Okay, still not working. Well, I'll go find some shelter and transmit new co-ordinates.” 

Swerve stared over the barren rock of the almost-planet, and started staggering his way over to one of the upturned rock slabs in the distance. It was just his luck to get stuck out here. Right as he'd finally gotten his hands on the good stuff for his bar! The kind of good stuff he intended to give only to special customers.

Now he would have to drink it all as ridiculously expensive survival rations. 

Swerve's stump shot white-hot pain up his sensornet with every step, and he really hoped that Ratchet could repair it. It was hard to be a bartender without two functioning hands, and Swerve still fully intended to run a bar, preferably with his buddy Blurr. 

The journey to the upturned platform was slow and painful, but the meagre amount of shade made it worth it. The heavy radiation from the system's star was no longer burning his paint off, and Swerve leant against the hot rock. There was barely any room for him to sit, but his small frame was proving to be an advantage. 

Swerve opened his commlink. “I found shelter! It's too small to really stay in, but at least my plating's not boiling anymore. I wish I could hear you guys, what's been going on over there? Did Whirl get arrested for punching that one guy?”

Silence.

“...Yea, I thought so.” 

Swerve waited in the hot shade of the rock, and tried to figure out how to repair himself with a screwdriver and a few rocks. The end of his commlink stayed silent, and he tried to dial up the receiver volume again. 

He watched the light of the large star becoming slightly dimmer through the muddy atmosphere, and let out a sigh of relief at the cool touch of the night on the inferior dustball. 

“Thank Primus- It's night now. My fans are completely overworked. I still have some coolant, so there's no rush yet, but I'm running low and the weather here is.. heh, not so hot!” Swerve grinned and hoped that someone had at least caught that joke, it was a good one. 

The night grew comfortably cool, and then it grew icy, and then Swerve found that the particles of the atmosphere were crystallising against his joints. Huh, kind of weird. Not too bad, it helped to cool down his protoform a little... Okay, maybe a bit too much. Swerve sent the command to move, and his limbs remained straight and unmoving in the hold of the steely crystals. “FRAG!” 

He strained to get up, and sharp frozen bits splintered in between his joints, mercilessly pressing into nodes and energon cables. His knee joints gave out and his single arm couldn't prevent him from smashing his nose against the ground. “Frag- frag-....” He struggled upright to the sound of newly formed crystals breaking off his form, and he rolled his shoulders. His stump was burning like a hot iron, but there were crystals hanging off the molten end, and Swerve was not going to be touching it, not when it already felt like it was being smelted off his frame.

“Frag- the nights are really cold on this planet and the atmosphere crystallises- I think I punctured a joint, my left leg is lagging on me. Wait-” Swerve shook himself, and more of the frozen particles chipped off his frame. “Okay, this is getting kind of freaky here. You guys really need to come and get me! This isn't cool!”

There was no answer, and Swerve hit his head against the frigid rock, willing his stupid receiver to work already. The crystals were growing again, and he twitched to break them off before they could reach into his seams. “No recharge tonight then. Partying in Crystal city, if you know what I mean, right?” He said idly, and he strained to hear any reply at all in his receiver. 

After a few breems of occasional twitching and wiping crystals from his vulnerable parts, he abandoned any notion of recharge and started walking. “Hey, sorry guys, but I'm moving again. These crystals are gonna put a crick in my struts if I don't get rid of them in time. I'll send co-ordinates when I've found a new place to stay. Swerve out.”

It wouldn't be too long before they came to find him. Ultra Magnus was probably still talking regulations with those enforcers-of-spacial-laws-organic things, or maybe the small spacecraft was broken. 

Swerve flinched when the crystal shards broke off him and clumped in his elbow joint. “Any chance of my self-repair fixing my receiver?” 

Silence.

“....Right.” 

When the next morning arrived in all it's plate-scalding glory, Swerve could do nothing but moan in relief as the last bits of grating crystal turned back into innocuous liquids and vapors. The relief was short lived, because the pleasant temperatures only lasted a few joors before the ground was scalding his pedes and his paint was starting to boil.

Swerve had wandered away from his impromptu shelter from before, and the sun felt like a physical weight on his back. He had his commlink open, and he tried not to pant into his microphone as he strained to hear any sign of contact.  
“I could really go for that rescue chopper now, even if you send Whirl. Pit, by this point, I might take Megatron up on a ride if he offered one.”

Swerve staggered forward and tried to keep his systems from falling into recharge. He couldn't fall right now. The ground was too hot, and the sun was too hot- if he fell and decided to recharge in the heat, he was sure he was going to wake up welded to the ground, and if that wasn't an undignified end, he didn't know what was. 

He hadn't taken the time to refuel yet. The five expensive bottles of energon were still in his subspace, and honestly, he simply didn't want to open one. They were meant for special occasions, like getting Ultra Magnus to loosen up. Okay, that had ended badly the first time, but... but maybe it would be better next time. Swerve was still looking for a roommate, and Magnus was still a candidate. Sort of. Kind of..... 

_It's Ultra Magnus, not Mags. Nothing has changed._

He was going to reserve one of the five bottles for whoever ended up to be his roommate. It would be a special occasion, and he would show them the benefits of bunking with a bartender like him! 

Finally, finally finally, a bit of shade presented itself, this time in a large crater. Swerve let himself slide down, and hid his frame in the shallow shadow that the pit cast. His energy levels were dipping below the recommended minimum, and he pulled one of the expensive bottles from his subspace. He looked at the label, and reluctantly popped it open.

The heavy taste of perfectly refined energon grated terribly with his situation. Swerve took a swig, and tried to take a bit of pleasure from the enriched flavour dancing over his glossa. He'd really wanted to share it with others, in his bar. 

“...I hope someone's taking care of my bar. Whirl better not be making a mess of things! Ultra Magnus? You kept things in check right? I mean, I got a bar-permit now, and my bar IS part of the ship, so it needs to be kept safe and sound and clean, right?” 

No answer. 

That was okay. He could trust Ultra Magnus to be an aft about cleanliness and order. Swerve was pretty sure his bar would be just the same as when he left, maybe with a few missing bottles. Swerve's systems cycled into recharge, lulled by the enriched energon, and he watched his memory purges scroll by. There was his old job, and there was the war, and then his bar in the Lost Light. He liked those last ones best. 

He was startled out of his recharge by an audial-glitching burst of static. Wonderful, glorious static from his receiver unit. The crystals from the night shattered and stabbed into him when he jolted upright, but it was all forgotten in the very moment he could hear a sound from his commlink. He didn't even turn the volume down.

“Guys?! I think my receiver is working again- say something quick!”

His spark sang in joy as the sound of static became more focused, the harsh grating gradually turning into melodious sounds- 

_“-sities now!...... Welcome, to our traveling trade beacon! If you are hearing this, it means you are one of the lucky extraterrestrials that get to see the wares of our store! We have items for all types, races and forms! Oil, gurh fish, Energon, spare parts, water, repairs, medical help- we have it all! Come to our co-ordinates 23-3.3300.33423-233 – BG5656, and see for yourself what we have to offer! We will be there for the next three cycles, so hurry to our grand Galacta-Store and buy your necessities now!..... Welcome,-”_

Swerve stared straight ahead, and listened to the message becoming clearer as the advertising beacon drifted by the planet he was stranded on. His receiver caught the short-range transmission loud and clear, and the words resounded clearly in his processor. 

Swerve broke the icy crystals in his joints with a little more force than was healthy, and he accessed his commlink again. “Guys? Can you hear me? My receiver was broken, but I think it's fixed itself...” 

No reply.

“.... Tailgate?” He couldn't turn the receive volume up any higher and the advertisement from the trading post was bellowing into his processor with a power that was approaching Cyclonus' singing voice. “Rodimus, Ultra Magnus- please respond.” 

There was only silence at the end of the other line, and Swerve laid himself back down. “Mags?...” He said quietly, but the commander didn't answer. Crystals started to form in Swerve's joints again, and he only broke them to take a really big gulp of the expensive energon in his subspace. 

He would have to start really rationing the energon inside of the flasks. Swerve poured energon down his intake until his tanks were sending capacity warnings, and waited for the sun to come back up. He would start rationing tomorrow. 

Despite the crystals, he fell into a recharge without a single memory purge.

He woke up with the sensation of crystals melting against his plating and vapours running out of the gaps on his body. He opened his commlink, but there was nothing but silence on the other side. The advertisement had flown by, or it was no longer broadcasting. 

Swerve forced himself upright, and started walking through the heat. He had taken too much from the first bottle. It was halfway empty, and his frame had been turning the excess energy into a pleasant buzz instead of fuel to survive with. Had it been worth it? Swerve didn't know the answer to that yet. 

“Swerve here...” He started, and then he halted himself. There was nobody listening, or they would have answered already. His receiver was working- he would have at least noticed a snigger or an exhale or someone bumping their chair... 

“... Comm me if you're ready to pick me up and I'll give you my co-ordinates.” 

Swerve shut off his commlink and staggered through the heat of the tiny planet, heading for the next shelter with the hope of finding something to get him off the little rock. 

Friends usually joked around. Swerve had never hoped so much in his life that someone was playing a joke on him. Probably Whirl just deleting his incoming calls, or Brainstorm ignoring him to make him say stupid slag before coming out and saying 'hah, I tricked you!' 

“Hey, Brainstorm, if you're blocking my transmissions, you can stop now. I'll clear your tab, alright? I won't have Skids throwing you out of the bar anymore if that's what this is about. Oh, uh, and if it's you Whirl, blocking my calls- I have some really tasty stuff with me here. You can have some if you come pick me up.” 

No answer.

“Okay.... I'll just keep on going by myself, but you two are not getting any of the refined brew I bought!” There was no answer, and he simply trudged on.

The end of the planet's cycle brought him to a tiny cave that was broiling with heat, and Swerve curled up against a rock that was almost glowing with temperature. Maybe it would give him a few joors or respite once the cold started setting in. 

He sat back, and tried to preserve as much of his frame's heat as he could without activating his heaters. Four and a half bottles of enriched energon were not going to be enough to keep him alive AND a hot. Swerve curled himself around the glowing rock and let the subtle warmth flow into him. The stump of his arm scratched painfully over the metal and he flinched. 

The deep scratch stood out on the glowing rock, and with a snort, Swerve drew a small face with a few additional lines. “Hah! Masterpiece if I do say so myself.” 

The stylised face of Ultra Magnus- or Drift, or Ratchet, or pretty much any bot- stared back at him, and Swerve flicked a spot of grime onto the rock. The scrabbled visage of Ultra Magnus looked angry, and Swerve stared into the drawn optics. 

“Aw.... It's not so bad Mags. You can clean stuff like that up really quickly, especially you- you know a lot about this sort of thing.” 

Magnus rock was silent. 

“What-.... Oh right, how many regulations did I break now?” 

Magnus rock stared accusingly.

“So many? Well, I don't do it on purpose, it just kind of happens.” 

Silence, but Magnus-Rock had not said anything about Swerve's nickname for the bot. That was good, that was progress! Maybe now was the right time...? Swerve leant closer to the rock. 

“Anyway, Mags,” He put emphasis on the name. “I wanted to ask you... if you wanted to bunk with me. You know, shared quarters?” 

The rock stayed silent, and Swerve laid a hand on top of the rock. Having Ultra Magnus in his quarters would be a pain. He would probably have to make his berth everyday and arrange the covers on alphabetical order or something, after which he'd have to recite passages from the rulebook and swear to follow the honoured Autobot code for that cycle. 

He would also have had someone in his quarters, just like everybody else on the Lost Light, and maybe the lights would have been on a few times when he returned to his quarters. Maybe Ultra Magnus would be in his bunk, reading some obscure rulebook, and getting upset over a speck of dirt that Swerve brought into their quarters.  
The rock stayed silent.

“......Yea. You think about it and let me know okay?” He muttered. 

He scraped his hand over the shallow scratches and Ultra Magnus' visage disappeared underneath new damage on the stone. The stone was cooling down, and the cave was too. The built up heat had only spared him a few joors of those stupid crystals.

Maybe he should stay in this little cave until the others found him. Swerve looked at the scratched stone and sighed. He took out one of the bottles and took a measured sip. 

“I'm thinking of staying in this cave. It's warmer here so I don't have to deal with the atmosphere crystallising on me.” He said into his commlink. “It's probably not smart though. I'll need to find some parts, or scrap metal or something. I can't have been the only one unlucky enough to get stuck on this planet right? That'd be just my luck though.”

Swerve laid a hand onto the cold Magnus-stone. “That settles it then, I'll be moving on tomorrow, even if this place is pretty nice considering the other places I slept in the last few cycles. Heck, I even had a roommate there for a few kliks!” The rock didn't laugh with him, but that was to be expected. Ultra Magnus didn't have a sense of humour. 

The night cycle went by slowly, and the slowly building crystals kept him out of recharge. He probably should move during the night to gain ground and lose the crystals, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and go. He patted the scratched Magnus-rock. “I wonder if there's a regulation for that. Do you think I'm breaking the rules by just sitting around when I could be moving? Magsy?” 

If the real Ultra Magnus had stayed silent after such a remark, it would have been a miracle of immense proportions. Magnus-rock kept silent, but that was only because he was a rock. Swerve stroked the rock. “I don't know the rules that well. Magnus does that job for everyone else.”

He waited out the rest of the night besides the rock, and played with the bottle.

The next cycle was another scorching hot passage of time where he dragged his pedes over burning ground and tried to forget that his left arm was nothing but a stump. He looked at the palm of his right hand and gave a small smile. Blurr's personal number shone back at him, and he clenched his hand into a fist. He was happy it had been his left arm, and not his right.

He needed Blurr's number if he was going to start a bar with the mech. Technically he already had a bar, but Blurr was more than welcome to obtain co-ownership. He had probably even beat the speedster to opening a bar! Swerve smiled through the heat of the planet's sun and put Blurr's number into his commlink. 

“Hey Blurr, old buddy! It's been some time since the last message I sent you about the Lost Light and everything, but I figured I could call again even if the distance is probably gonna mess it all up. Blaster said something about the transmission not going through so maybe that's why you didn't answer yet. Not like I could receive it now anyway. Long range comms are completely busted.

I fell off a spacecraft after Whirl almost blew up someone's bar, and it turned out that the owners had weapons that made Whirl whistle appreciatively. I think they hit everybody at least once, but I wouldn't know for sure since I'm stuck on a semi-planet. I think it's newly forming, because the atmosphere has moodswings like Starscream! Cold like the vacuum at night, hot like a smelter by day...”

Swerve chuckled. “I think I'll mix a new drink after this experience. It'll probably taste like slag, just like how this situation is slag.” 

Swerve's pede caught on a rock and he fell forward, landing painfully on his stump. A squeal of pain mixed in with his message for Blurr, and he panted heavily as he tried to regain control over his vocaliser. “Sorry about that. Landed on my arm stump. I really hope Ratchet can repair it. I don't think I'll be a good bartender with only one arm...”

Swerve struggled upright and laid a hand on the painful plating of his stump. Bits of dust and planet had gotten into his optics and mouth, but he dismissed it. “But then you can help me. What are friends for right?” 

His spark flared a little in his chassis at the image of the bar he and Blurr would one day share. Blurr would be able to serve drinks faster than Swerve could talk, and they would … say stuff, and maybe share a room on top of the bar since most of the money went into new drinks and neither of them really cared if they shared a room.

“... Anyway, I hope everything's alright with you on Cybertron. If you get this message and happen to speak to Rodimus or Drift or Magnus or something, could you tell them to go look for me at these co-ordinates?” He attached the co-ordinates to his message. “Thanks buddy, I owe you one. See you when we get back to Cybertron!” 

He locked the message, and shot it off towards Blurr's personal commlink number. It had been a good distraction from the burning heat, and it was a comforting thought that he had someone to send a message to. He hoped Blurr would receive it. He mostly hoped Blurr would answer. 

Swerve trudged on through the blanket of heat, and tried to spot his shelter for the night. The entire planet looked exactly the same - blank, endless hot rock, with a vaguely tinted sky obscuring the view of space above.  
It was exhilarating to suddenly see the broken hull of a crashed spacecraft. Swerve's spark swelled and he grinned. “Slag yes! Guys, I found some sort of alien space-craft, and with a bit of luck it could still run! I'll let you guys know if I get it working- you better send me some co-ordinates. I don't really have the credits to go out on my own, especially not since every other species seems to hate Cybertronians, and I'm a minibot, and my aim is not that good, and I lost my gun, and I lost my arm... Anyway, I'll brief you guys on the status of the ship in a little bit!”

It was easier to ignore the silence now that he had something to explore. The outside was battered and bruised, and the whole thing was lying in a congealed pool of what was probably some sort of fuel. The back of the ship had been mauled into tiny bits, and with a sinking spark Swerve recognised the remains of a completely slagged engine. 

He checked, but the machinery was just a big mess of parts, and with only one hand and a processor full of bar-jokes, he had no chance of repairing it. He activated his commlink. “The space shuttle thing I found his non-operational. I don't think I can fix it on my own, but I'm hoping that I can maybe patch the breach and spend my nights a little warmer. Did I mention those crystals that grow everywhere when it gets cold here? My joints feel like someone poured irondust in them, but at least the stuff evaporates during the day. I could take some back to the Lost Light for Perceptor and Brainstorm- they could do something cool with the right science stuff, am I right?.... Anyway, I'm gonna check inside, see you in a klik.” 

The spacecraft was small, but the chassis had held together and the air that rushed towards him when he managed to crick open the door was cool in comparison to the heat outside. The thermal protection wasn't even damaged! 

Swerve pulled at the door with his one arm until there was just enough space for him to squeeze through. He listened carefully, but there was no sign of life from the inside. He stuck out his fingers in a mockery of a gun, and aimed them inside.  
“If there's anyone in here, come out with your hands over your head or I'll blast you to scrap.”

There was nobody inside, and Swerve crawled into the singular room of the spacecraft. A collection of brittle organic struts broke under his pedes and he pushed them aside with his foot. “Sorry, thingies, but I need your shuttle.” 

The entire place was tiny, and the control panel had buttons so small that Swerve's pinky finger would be pressing five buttons at once if he tried to use it. The fuel-gauge read empty, and the multitude of screens were dark and cracked. Swerve curled up inside of the spacecraft and tried to draw the door closed. With a lot of screeching and creaking he got the door back in place, and the scorching heat from outside stopped flowing into the spacecraft. 

Swerve laid down on his side, and watched the ceiling. There were some weird splatters on it, and he spotted another set of organic struts stuck in between a few pipes. Ah, that would explain the weird splatters.

“You guys must've hit it even harder than me. At least I have the plating to survive a crash from space. Kind of. This dustball doesn't have enough gravity to squash me. Cybertron- yea, trying to land on Cybertron by dropping from orbit would probably flatten me like a datadisk.” 

“At least I don't have to deal with those Crystals anymore, that's a good thing.... You know, good news like this deserves a bit of a celebration, right?” Swerve leant back against the control panel and took out one of his ration bottles. “To good news!” He set the bottle to his lips and let the warm energon burn on his glossa. It slid down his intake and settled like comfort in his tank. He looked at the small pile of organic. “I'll probably still throw you out though, I don't really like sleeping on organic residue.”

He wiped a drop off the bottle and flicked it at the heap of bones and crumbling skin that was lying near the door. “Here, there is some for you. I don't know where you keep the glasses so I guess that'll have to do. It isn't much of a celebration without sharing a good drink, right?” 

He watched the droplet trickle over the organic struts and he sighed. “Don't like it? Eh, I should have guessed, energon really isn't meant for organics, but it's the thought that counts.” He took another sip. “And personally....” 

He faltered, and the organic mess didn't inquire any further. Swerve leant back and watched the stain on the ceiling. The usual tricks of getting someone to pay attention just didn't seem to work for him. Nobody really asked him to finish his sentences, and sometimes it felt like people enjoyed it when he stopped talking. He looked at the organic pile, and tried to figure out if the weird thing felt the same. He couldn't find a face on it, so he wasn't sure. He decided that his pal was just a quiet drinker. 

Swerve sighed, and thought back of his room on the Lost Light. It didn't have a stain on the ceiling, but it also didn't have organic remains. He idly wondered if they had been sentient, or if the shuttle had been infected by some weird organic mechanimals, leaving the thing to crash without its rightful, sentient owners inside of it. 

“I guess I have roommates now.” He said idly. The pile of organic trash didn't answer. “... I think I liked Magnus-rock better. At least the guy was a little warm.” 

He rolled over, and stared at the small buttons on the command panels. His commlink channel was still wide-open, and his receiving volume was as high as he could dial it, but nobody had contacted him. Not even another advertisement drone.

“I'm kind of wondering, you know, who's missing me. Skids? I know you're probably on the other side of the line. Though, then again, you were mostly interested in my bar more than me.” 

No reply. 

“Did you know that I didn't only ask you to bunk with me? I asked Tailgate too, because we're good friends.” 

Silence.

“He preferred to sleep in one room with Cyclonus.” Swerve rolled back over, and looked at the pile of organic matter that had once been a living creature. “I dunno what your species was like and how much you know of Cybertron, but Cyclonus is pretty much a mass-murdering, impolite, mean, stick-up-the-aft, patriotic Decepticon.”

He paused. “Skids, don't let Cyclonus know I said that, okay?” 

There was no answer, and Swerve nudged the pile of organic struts with a fingertip. “I asked a lot of mechs. Uh, you were my first choice by the way Skids. I would have picked Blurr over you, but that's because we've been buddies for a really long time.” 

He waited for a sound, but the shuttle was silent and his cooling fans didn't have to work now that the spacecraft's shell was keeping the heat out. “I even asked Ultra Magnus.” 

Swerve didn't really know what Skids would say in response to that. Most likely, he would have tuned out at some point and walked off to talk to someone else. Swerve jabbed his finger into the dead organic, and one of the white brittle struts snapped under the force. 

“Skids didn't want to bunk with me either you know.” 

By this point, he didn't really know who he was talking to. Drift? Rodimus? Blurr? They weren't here, and his commlink receiver was silent. He scraped a finger over the organic mess and the white struts made a weak clattering sound over the metal.

“...You listen right?”

The pile was silent, but when he twitched his fingers, the organic struts rattled a silent affirmative. Swerve smiled shakily at the little pile. “Yea. There's nobody but me to talk to, so I guess you have to listen, but still, I appreciate it.” 

“I was talking to Skids earlier. He's an okay guy. I think he's my friend. Like Blurr. Blurr is my friend too.” The pile of struts clattered when he swirled his finger. “What? No way, everybody knows Blurr! One of the fastest racers of his time, he is a Star, a Celebrity with the capital C-! And I was-... I am going to open a bar together with him.” 

Swerve leant back and stared at the spot on the ceiling. “Blurr and Swerve's. Sounds like a decent name right? Heh, I imagine he would attract all sorts of admirers and fans trying to pull him along into their plans, but I know Blurr. He wouldn't leave his buddy hanging.” 

The silence in his receiver felt painful. “The message just got lost in interference. Otherwise he would have replied immediately, I'm sure of it.”

The pile of struts and flaked organic-plating made more rattling sounds when Swerve dragged it a little closer to himself. He could barely feel the organic matter against his hand, but he clung to it. “Do you want some more energon? I'm... I got a few more bottles, and I feel like celebrating.” 

“... No really. It's a celebration. I got you for a roommate now, and I think that's worth a few good drops of energon.” 

Swerve took a small sip, and dipped a energon-covered finger into the organic pile. “... You know, I can't decide whether I want you to be alive or not.” he said to the dead organic. 

“Like this, I know I have a friend in you.” 

Like Blurr.

“If you would be alive, you could leave.” 

Swerve pulled the pile a little bit closer, and rested it against his chassis. His mind flicked to images of Sunstreaker and his pet Insecticon. That was the kind of affection he kind of wanted. A living, sparked being, that actually wanted to be near him even if he did talk too much. 

He stroked his fingers through the organic pile, and the bones rattled softly. “Yea. You don't mind if I talk too much, do you.” He didn't even have to ask. The struts rattled on as he slowly rolled them over the ground with his single hand. “You are a real friend.”

He fell into recharge with the pile of struts still underneath his hand. He would try to repair the shuttle tomorrow, and re-ration his remaining energon.

-

Repairing the shuttle was, as he expected, pretty much impossible with his skills. He only recognised a quarter of all the parts and he didn't have any tools to speak of. Still, he dutifully set himself at the back of the destroyed shuttle and tried to fix an engine he had never seen before. He had to wait for the day, but that wasn't a problem now that he had decent shelter. 

“They probably all miss me.” he said loudly. The pile of struts was still inside the spacecraft. “I am pretty much the life of the ship. I provide the good energon, I listen to everybody, I lighten the mood with jokes. Everybody knows me!” 

He chuckled. “Yea, impressive, I know. It's not so impressive as you might think, owning a bar helps a lot. I see everybody swinging by every few orns, and we talk and drink together. I try not to get overcharged on the job, but eh, nobody's going to make a big deal about it. It's my own bar!” 

He placed a bent pipe to a different part of pipe and tried to think of a way to connect them without a welder. “I just kinda wish they'd talk to me outside of my bar. Like you do.” 

He imagined the organic pile nodded its assent back in the shuttle, and he cleared his vocaliser. “Of course Swerve, buddy! I would love to help you out even when you're not running your hard-earned bar! Even if I wasn't dead, I would love it!” 

Swerve stilled his work, and vented a deep breath. The engine didn't look much better, and he had a feeling that the muddy pool he was sitting in was actually a collection of molten engineparts. “Yea, thanks buddy.... Do you happen to know how to repair your own ship?” 

The pile did not answer, and Swerve went back to fiddling with a wire. After abandoning and picking up his efforts five times, he ended up sitting at the entrance of the spacecraft with one of the energon bottles and the little pile of struts just inside the doorway. 

He told some stories, some jokes, and brought his companion up to date with the latest Lost Light gossip. As usual, he was ignored, but at least Pile didn't try to converse with someone else over his words. He briefly considered going back to the cave to get the Magnus-rock, but the few joors he had in between the heat and the cold were too nice to waste on retrieving a scratched-up rock. So he told Pile about Magnus-rock instead, and Pile listened dutifully. 

It was a good evening all things considered, but it reminded him just a little too much of every night he spent at his own bar. 

“Do you have a story to tell, Pile?”

Pile said nothing.

“You would be my best friend you know, if you were alive.” Swerve said, and he took another gulp from his energon that was just a little too large to be a ration. “Tailgate is nice. I thought he was my friend, but he was... he was in trouble at one point. Didn't tell me. Almost like.... he didn't consider me a friend at all.” He paused. “Nobody I asked wanted to sleep in one room with me. You slept in a room with me.... Hey, be honest with me here. I'm not that bad right?” 

Pile was quiet. Swerve joined him in silence, and cradled the energon bottle in his single arm.

“...Even Ultra Magnus said no...” He stared into the distance. “...and he was lonely too.” 

He looked at Pile and tried to take comfort in the presence of his roommate He took another sip and crawled back into his new little house. That's what it was, for as long as his bottles would hold out on him. 

-

They weren't coming. Nobody was coming. 

If it had been Rewind falling off the vehicle, or Tailgate, or Rodimus, or Ultra Magnus or even slagging Cyclonus- there would have been a rescue. Someone would have made it their business to come after them.  
Swerve laid in his broken little shuttle, and tried to tell himself that Ultra Magnus would notice he was gone.

Blurr- Blurr would have come for him. Swerve knew that with a certainty that had his spark burning. Blurr's personal number written in the metal of his palm was like a shining beacon.  
If Blurr had known he was missing, he would have come for him. 

Halfway into the cycle, Swerve decided to find Magnus-rock. Pile deserved to meet him, after all the stories he had told about him. He only had one bottle of energon left. Rationing it hadn't worked out, but it would be enough to get to Magnus-rock and bring him back to the shuttle. 

Swerve said goodbye to the pile, and started tracking his own footsteps, back to the small cave with the Magnus-Rock in it. He hadn't shared his energon with Magnus-Rock, and it was high time to remedy that. 

And then something crashed into him, sending a hot jolt of pain through his stump and launching him into the air. The entire world spun before his optics, but the cackling laughter of Whirl snapped everything back into focus. The blue copter sheared closely over the ground, and Swerve landed painfully on his back, energon bottle still clutched tightly in his single hand.

“Hey Swerve! Long time no see! Wanna see me do a somersault?” 

Swerve didn't even mind the threat on his life. He hooked his single arm around Whirl's right rotor and held on tight. He clutched the bottle in his hand, and swore that he was donating it to Whirl as soon as he was back on the Lost Light. 

“We kinda figured you'd gotten vaporised, but we needed some stuff, and someone caught one of your pathetic commlink messages. Something about a Pile and a rock?... This better become one of your bar-stories. I wanna hear all about how you got that arm blasted off.” 

Swerve's world was spinning again, and he didn't manage an answer. He watched the miserable stupid planet grow smaller as Whirl's engines carried them higher. Pile and Magnus-rock were still on the planet. Swerve imagined that they would miss him. Pile would probably miss him a lot.

“...but you'd know that I was happier on the Lost Light.” he murmured from Whirl's back. “True friends, that's what you guys are!” he hollered back down at the planet, and Whirl snickered. 

“Ohh boy, I can tell that you've been surviving off of high grade. Better hope you didn't blow any neural circuits, I would laugh at you if you did.” 

Swerve let the comment pass him by. He probably WAS overcharged. He only had one bottle of that expensive energon left, and it was half empty. He probably shouldn't have shared so much of his energon with Pile. 

“Pile...- Pile's a good friend.” 

Whirl huffed a laugh. “Mech, you get real pathetic when you're overcharged.” 

Swerve grinned weakly. Whirl didn't even know the half of it.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is personal. Swerve's plight for a roommate struck a chord with me, and I wrote this. I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Thanks to Skywinder for beta-ing!


End file.
